Mama Nature will have her little jokes

Posted on March 15, 2014

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We have taken a vote. We demand relief, in the form of Spring. Nothing less will do. Small irritations are magnified by their accumulation. The hourly pile of snowfall has turned to a daily dusting. Pretty in the woods. But I am tired of sweeping the steps.

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The racket of the kitchen faucet splashing away day after day–this in order to keep the water supply from freezing–has become An Issue. It is amazing how much noise a pencil-sized stream of water can make when it lands in a stainless steel sink. I experimented, and discovered that I could create a cascade that made an altogether more agreeable sound. Voila. The Kitchen Water Feature.

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I am trying to look on the bright side. This morning we have an excellent blue sky.

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The view of the cozy cabin to the south is lovely.

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The path up the hill behind the Writing Studio and Bait Shop looks inviting.

Royal Road to the Sun

But enough. Count your blessings. I could have finished this draft:

Journal entry, January 27, 2014

We disappear in winter. No wonder depression sets in. We look out the front door and see another three inches of fresh, fluffy snow – we are blanketed, bundled and blown dry.

We were out at dark-thirty this morning, the Duo tending to business more briskly than usual, while I swept the steps and mushed across the road to retrieve the newspaper. We spent the morning snug indoors. I heard the Antrim County plow go by . . . I heard Dale Reedy rumble through my driveway . . . and when I opened the door to go out in the afternoon it was as if none of us had been at work at all. The plow scrapes, Dale’s tire tracks, my own footsteps . . . all had vanished.

It is disconcerting. But then I swept the steps again and headed out for a walk with Miss Sadie and the Cowboy. It took about 15 minutes for us to realize that if we did not head home immediately we were in danger of losing assorted valuable body parts to frostbite – and we are equipped for this weather.

I was going to show you my ownself swathed in the red down coat and so forth, but it turned out to be more difficult than you might think to take a selfie while wearing ski gloves. Maybe I will get Babs to make a portrait. Maybe we will assemble the entire Township for a Community Portrait: Intrepid Eastport Residents During the Dreadful Winter of 2013-2014. A century from now our descendants will marvel at the hardships we encountered.

OK, I feel better now.

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